From Alpha to Omega
by Salty Peanuts
Summary: 26 Rochu drabbles for every letter of the alphabet, which view their relationship through a variety of different lenses. Some are happy, some are sad, and others are pure crack. It's not that Ivan and Yao don't have a close relationship, they just love love love to keep it secret!
1. A-E

Hey there, I'm back from a short hiatus. These drabble have been gnawing at my muse for a while now. The inspirations for them came from researching Sino-Russian relations, and browsing through various Rochu works.

This is my little way of helping people understand the different facets of this pairing, and attempt to answer the long-pondered question, "Why are Russia and China even together?" Their relationship is complex and fascinating, and I hope my efforts have painted a fair picture. :) The drabbles jump from one time period to another, and some are light-hearted while some are heavier.

Happy reading!

* * *

**A beginning**

"Hey kid!"

"_Kid!_"

Someone came from behind and roughly shook Ivan's shoulder, jerking him free from the bindings of a wonderful, yet particularly naughty daydream. He turned around and met his boss, Mr. Mongolia, a tall, burly guy with a volcanic temper. Immediately, Ivan cleared his head, promptly erased all of the previous thoughts in his head about the man's wife, and after a deep breath taken, he managed to squeak, "Y-Yes sir?"

A boulder-like fist thrusted towards him, making the child jump a little. But luckily, Ivan wasn't punched in the gut this time. Scrunched in his boss's hand was a bouquet of pretty flowers— red, purple, pink, and whatever else that bloomed out of the vast prairies. Ivan took them, and stared up at him curiously.

"Go and give that to Yao," Mr. Mongolia mumbled under his breath, and tell him 'sorry', and that I love him, and that he better come back to me soon or I'll make his people suffer like never before..."

Ivan frowned. "Are you sure? It all seems a little pointless to me. I mean, if you're really worried about him, then—"

"Yes! Yes! And if you mess up, no food for you tonight!" Mongolia growled impatiently, sending him off on his way.

Ivan stuck out his tongue, and immediately dodged a striking hand.

_Humph, stupid Mr. Mongolia... I'll show you! You don't deserve your big palace, all that land, and definitely not someone as pretty as Yao. _

Ivan let out a defeated sigh and walked to the brook, where Yao was sitting on a rock, looking into the water and brushing his long black hair. Upon hearing a familiar voice calling his name, he carefully set aside his jade comb and looked up.

Ivan laid the bouquet of flowers neatly upon the other man's lap, and managed to snatch a good glance at those lean, pale thighs peeking beneath his robes.

"Oh my, are those for me?"

Ivan quickly wiped some drool off his face, and nodded earnestly in response. "Yes, yes they are! I spent all day picking them myself," he lied, and grinned proudly at the fact, "I love you Yao, will you be my wife instead?"

Yao didn't answer the question. Instead, he giggled like a young girl and picked little Ivan up, spinning him around in the air. "Aw, thanks! You're just the sweetest thing ever, aren't you?" He cooed, starry-eyed and blushing.

Ivan nodded, and praised the heavens for having found Yao's weak spot.

For the first time in his life, being cuddled like a furry animal and kissed everywhere actually felt nice. Probably because it wasn't his sister. Ivan accidentally locked glances with Mr. Mongolia from afar, and soon regretted it. He sighed inwardly, and decided that being strangled by Yao's affection was a better way to die. In fact, it was the best way to die.

* * *

**Bitter**

_1959_

Have you ever loved someone so much that you hated him? Especially when you know for a fact that he'll never love you back as much, making hatred the only logical option.

_"Ivan, don't you see? You're suffocating me! I'm not just your slave, not one of your many captives, I'm your lover, and unless you're willing to treat me like a human being, I'm leaving."_

That ungrateful whore! How dare he say those things to me, after all that I did for him! If I hadn't saved Yao, Kiku would have just left him to die in the middle of nowhere. I gave him aid, shelter— everything he wanted. I grovelled to his every need.

So what if I'm not as affectionate as I used to be? Yao no longer needs warmth or attention. In desperate times like these, a treasure like him must be shut away, and only viewed by a person who is deserving.

Look at him, so beautiful, but blind as a bat to the never-ending winter the world has descended into, that waits to tear him apart. Only Ivan knows best, Yao, Ivan knows best.

_"I gave my family, people, even my own sanity to be with you, and yet you betrayed me and everything we once stood for. I've stayed by your side when you needed me, but where are you now? You've changed so much, Ivan, it's disgusting."_

I laugh.

"For God's sake Yao, snap out of it! Surely you understand how dangerous it is to chase empty dreams? It sounded neat on paper, yes, but the paradigm has shifted, and it's only survival of the fittest now!"

_"But if we don't follow our dreams, then what are we even doing here? What purpose do we have to continue this farce?"_

He's crying now. I've made him cry, haven't I? I'm such a terrible person.

"Don't make me into an angel, Yao, or you'll be sorely disappointed."

* * *

**Cut-throat**

_1960_

Yao got up and made his way towards the door. The tapping of his riding boots echoed steadily through the hallway, his gait unshaken by their previous encounter.

"I will _destroy _you."

He stopped. "I beg your pardon?"

"I will destroy you, Yao, squeeze the life out of you with my own two hands. I'll make you filthy and ugly, so that no one would want you except for me."

Yao's corresponding smile somehow made Ivan's heart both melt, and sink in fear. "Go ahead, Ivan," he taunted, "I have all the time in the world to wait for your demise. I've been around for four thousand years, and will be for thousands more. The brightest stars fall first, and when you do, I'll be the first to spit on your grave. Remember that."

* * *

**Dorks**

Every time Alfred walks into a World Meeting, he sees his two supposed best friends whispering and giggling, and cannot help but think that the fall of the great American Empire is imminent.

After the Great Underwear Accident of 2007, Alfred has made it his priority to fully inspect his designated chair before sitting on it every time. He must make sure it's free of a whoopie cushion, clipped leg, or worse, any creepy crawlies planted in the vicinity.

* * *

**Eternal**

Ivan and Yao often joke about how they're going to spend their retirement years together. They've woven an entire fantasy life to be realized when they eventually settled down. Every detail is precisely catalogued, from where they were going to live (Cuba), to what colour their bedroom walls were going to be (purple). However, they both know that when it came time to collect their pensions, the world would have already ended.

"Yao is totally going to love me forever and ever until the end of time, right?" Ivan randomly piped up one day, right before sex, and pretended to cry in pain after Yao rightfully smacked him across the head.

"Idiot, you know I only said that so you'd marry me."

Ivan's jaw fell to the floor. "W-W-WHAT?! After _all _of that cheesy romantic crap you pulled, likening the eternity of our love to the depths of the seas and stars in the sky or whatever…" He was close to tears. "Damn it, you made me hike up the Himalayas with an ingrown toenail, and—"

Of course, Yao could talk back until his lips were dry, but that still would not be enough to express the feelings he had for his husband. Plus, he knew Ivan wouldn't shut up until he kissed him. So, that was what he did.

**TBC**

* * *

Sooo, are you guys interested? The next installment will come soon. **Please review!**


	2. F-K

:D Here's another batch. These are fun to write, I hope they are just as fun to read.

* * *

**Freedom**

You say to be free is to have rights.

But, if a murderer was free to hold a gun, then didn't his victims have the right to be safe? If you're invading another nation in its name, then at the same time, weren't the thousands of innocent massacred civilians denied their right to live on this Earth? If your definition of freedom is not flawless, then what right do you have to criticize us?

* * *

**Grapes**

There is no single formula for a successful marriage between two people, and most certainly not between two powerful nations who are as much rivals as they are lovers. But as time drifted by, both parties have come to realize the importance of "subtlety", having lived under the same roof for so many years. Subtlety is a vague term, really, but one must not scrutinize Ivan and Yao's interplay with too much precision, so as to not miss out on the more important details.

Subtle are their ways of expression. Slight grins from across the hall, a brush of hands beneath the table— they go unnoticed by most careless observers. Subtle are their feelings, as their entire lives don't depend on the other. They give some, and take what is washed back in return. Both are aware of the other's arrangements outside of their relationship, and fully prepared to spend a few nights of the week alone.

To nurture this kind of subtlety requires mutual agreements to be set, which both parties must upkeep and respect. One of the agreements is to maintain their professional lives separate from their personal ones, otherwise, if something went wrong in one, both halves of the whole would suffer.

But who expects Ivan to play by the rules?

Ivan, who has first-hand experience of Yao's monstrous libido these days, thought it was a good idea to deny him sex until a particular gas deal is signed, before it dragged on for too long. Yao, as a first response, was heartbroken that Ivan would do something so thoughtless. But he quickly got over it and called his bluff. As a result, they haven't made love in over three weeks.

The first week in, Yao was already losing his mind, but he decided to keep his pride and kept on going. Ivan ended up handling abstinence a lot worse than Yao did. He didn't admit it, but his distress was made obvious by how many suspiciously long showers he took in a day. By the end of the second week, Ivan could barely walk.

"Ivan, dear, what are you reading? Let me see."

"N-No! Go away!" He yells, stuffing the porn magazine down his unusually baggy trousers.

In the end, Ivan's valiant efforts fell on one fateful afternoon, after a whole month without intimacy. After coming home from work, he was welcomed by the sight of Yao sprawled on the couch, sporting his favourite piece of lingerie, and giving a pair of frozen grapes a remarkable amount of lip-tongue action. Ivan's mind was screaming 'no', but by that time, he wasn't really thinking with his mind anymore.

That night, after a couple of angry, devastating orgasms, Ivan finally admitted his defeat, but not without subtlety.

"A game well played, Yao, a game well played."

No one said he lost the game.

* * *

**Heartless**

People who think I have no heart apparently have never met you, Yao. You have no idea what love is. You just charm people into doing favours for you, seduce people into sacrificing their lives so they may please you. You lure them into your arms and suck your victims dry to the bone.

Despite your arrogance, you are really nothing. Not a nation, not a man, nothing but a master of an uncanny, despicable craft. That's how you have survived for so long. Those around you died off because you poisoned them, and now, you have poisoned me.

You are China, the land of joy and harvest, my coveted southern neighbor that I both love and fear. But your eyes are darker than my own winter nights.

It's true what they say about me, Yao. I have no heart, because you ate it whole.

* * *

**Inexplicable**

I've been alive for thousands of years, and fallen in love multiple times, just to see everyone I've ever loved turn to ash in the blink of an eye.

You have no idea how lonely it gets, Ivan. You don't know how it feels to have time falling through your hands.

I always want someone to keep me warm, but not to love once again. I don't want another tragedy waiting to unfold. A thousand years from now, they'll be gone, and I'll be left to write their name in a history book.

I love you Ivan, always have. But you'll never hear me say it.

* * *

**Journey**

Rest now, Ivan. You've fought on long enough, and the battles have made you a sick old man. Lay on my back and stay there, will you? Don't speak, don't move, just go to sleep, and I'll carry us to wherever we need to go. This is a life of a Bolshevik, isn't it? You must march on and never look back, with your comrade by your side, and the dream you have both vowed to realize on your mind.

* * *

**Kids**

Ivan grabbed a beer from the fridge and unceremoniously collapsed onto the sofa. The summer humidity felt like a hot, smelly tongue licking his face. His winter coat has been shed (the clothing as well as half his body fat), but his lungs still burned to a crisp with every breath. Well, it was kind of his fault. After all, Ivan did volunteer to spend the whole month of August in hell fire (China), to be with Yao.

He drank it in one go, and after letting out the burp of a century, Ivan threw his feet upon the coffee table, almost collapsing the fort of empty beer cans he had so carefully assembled the day before.

_This crap is not strong enough... I need real liquor. _

But he's too lazy to walk to the corner store, he had already spent all the allowance his boss had given him on alcohol. Heck, he's too lazy right now to even reach for the remote or scratch his back. Yao was sitting on the other side, and god, Ivan wanted to fuck so bad. His wife looked more doable than usual, oh-so-gracefully laying there with his legs spread wide…

But there was a pile of used ashtrays separating them. So close, yet so far away.

Ivan wished Yao would quit smoking. He may be healthy as a horse right now, but with enough bad chemicals built up in his body, he wouldn't be. That's no way to spend your free time— smoking not three, four, but five packs a day. It gets worse when he's on vacation and not sitting behind a desk. Yao really needs to get himself a healthier hobby, and not to mention, one that is not making his country's massive GDP leak like a broken tap.

Besides, weren't they planning to adopt kids someday? Yeah, some example Yao would be setting for them.

With that, Ivan decided that today was the day he said something. But not before he took off his drenched wife-beater and threw it at the TV.

"Hey Yao," he mumbled out from between his multiple fattening chins, "Do you still want us to have children or what?"

A dry, witch-like cackle came from behind the smoke, as Ivan felt a foot smack him across the face.

"One alcoholic is hard enough. Mama ain't raisin' a whole damn litter."

**TBC**

* * *

More coming soon! Reviews are my incentive though. ;) So please take a few seconds of your time. Even if it's to insult me.


	3. L-Z

Sorry the editing sucks. I don't care anymore. I just want this over and done with so I can get back to drawing. Enjoy! -wipes sweat- It's finally done!

* * *

**Love**

Despite Ivan's rationale of "there's nothing wrong with our relationship", Yao insisted that they paid a marriage counsellor to solve an essentially nonexistent problem.

According to Yao, it's just to sand off the rough edges, which Ivan promptly retorted that sexual tension was what made life worth living.

But, Yao pointed out that their tension was not sexual in the least, because after their heated arguments, not once did he think of letting Ivan fuck him senseless. He only wanted to sleep in the guest room and never have to see his face again.

Ivan, slightly indignant, informed that his inability to perform his sexual duties up to par was because he could never get a good night's sleep thanks to Yao's snoring.

"Well guess what? I've been with human teenagers that lasted longer!"

"I'd rather hear a goat being sacrificed than you getting off!"

They did make it up to the counsellor's office after stirring up a scene outside, screaming at each other at the top of their lungs and making the hospital personnel want to take cover from what seemed like an impending nuclear war. The counsellor (a tall, bespectacled middle-aged woman with a lazy eye) sat them down like children before her, and the first question she asked was, "So, are you two in love?"

Ivan and Yao fell quiet, looked at her for a while and back at each other. The clock ticked three, and right then, they found themselves in a fit of laughter for no apparent reason.

"_Do I love him?_" Ivan snorted, "You've _got _to be kidding me!"

Yao punched him in the arm while giggling himself. "Yeah, they gave her a phD so she could get paid big bucks to ask if the sky was blue... Come on, let's get outta here."

Shaking their heads, the couple got up and made way for the door, oblivious to the genuinely concerned look on the woman's face. They left and never came back, thank God. But, they did walk out of the room holding hands.

* * *

**Manchuria**

_1945_

Once strong, healthy limbs have paralyzed from the lack of credence, and for the past decade or so, isn't a single bone in Yao's body that hasn't been broken. Thankfully, his heart is still intact after being repeatedly torn out of his chest and thrown on the ground. But, like anything that has suffered the pains of perpetuation, it is tired.

There's nothing to do now, but wait for a resolution that may never come. Wherever this river carries him is his future. Besides, he has grown to like the feeling of floating. The sensation has become very dear to him. It ascertains his very existence now. He could be thrashing in the water for a chance at life, or lay here still as a wooden plank. Either way, Yao will be floating to his demise.

It's embarrassing to just be waiting here for a saviour, putting your fate in someone else's hands. But Yao can't help it. He will lay there, half-dead, until a pair of strong arms cares to pull him out. Lazily, he reaches a hand out to the sky for a butterfly to land upon his dirty, bleeding palm. It flutters its golden-yellow wings, and a split second later, they're crushed to dust. He cackles at the deed.

Looming over him now is a man who Yao knows all too well. Thankfully his torso is blocking the sun, which is beginning to sting his eyes.

"Look Yao, I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Yao answers coldly, "no one forced you to be here."

"Is it really the time to be snappy?" Ivan scolds, the sudden caprice in his tone made Yao shiver. "Now, don't be stubborn with me. You know it doesn't work."

Yao sighs, and doesn't say anything as Ivan takes his hands, almost prying them open. "All right, out you come." He lifts up the other man's body, dripping with mud, and gingerly sets him upon the grass. "Now listen to what I have to say, and let me take care of you." He continues, sternly, brushing the bits of dirt out of Yao's hair.

Sinking into Ivan's embrace, and burying his face into his trench coat, Yao takes a lungful of his springtime scent. Yes, this is a man he could invest his faith in for the while. Of course, everyone will end up betraying him sooner or later.

"Damn it Yao, why were you so stupid? What were you thinking? I told you to stay safe, wait for me, and not be a hero fighting a losing battle! Don't you ever listen?"

Yao doesn't answer, and closes his eyes instead. Breath doesn't need to be wasted explaining the many things Ivan will never understand.

_Ivan always gives the best hugs. I want him to hold me forever. He has the softest eyes, the kindest face... The child who used to cling onto me like a puppy, I have watched grow to a man from afar. He never gave up on me, that stubborn little thing. I just take him for granted sometimes, and almost feel like I don't deserve all that he's done for me. _

"You think Kiku cares about you, just because you raised him? No, don't you understand,_ I'm_ the one who has loved you all along. It's all my fault, Yao. I should have made you mine ages ago."

Beneath his bold, strict voice of a sergeant, Yao can still hear a certain unmistakable tenderness in his words, to which he responds, slowly and clearly, "It's you, Ivan, it has always been you."

Ivan nods. "I promise, love, you don't have to fight anymore." He leans over and thrusts Yao into a long, desperate kiss. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

**North Korea**

Don't ever bring him up in conversation. Don't even mention his name in front of Ivan and Yao. Nowadays, he's nothing to them but a walking shadow of their inglorious past, or perhaps a mockery of their glorious one. If they could help it, Ivan and Yao wouldn't have anything to do with him.

* * *

**Opium**

_1860_

"Y-Yao! I can explain!"

_No you can't. You have absolutely no excuses for what you've done to me. I have a scar to show for it, see? Not just one, but many. _

_Oh, look at you, reduced to a snivelling ball of nonsense, only because you're too frightened to face the truth. _

"No! No! You're dead! You can't be here, ghosts don't exist!"

_Fool! Just because you and your little friends have ripped me apart, drank my blood, and feasted on my flesh, you think that'll destroy me? No, I've had this happen to me multiple times before. I may not be invincible, but I'm infallible. _

"You can't be alive, Yao... Your hands are so cold..."

_Shh, don't speak, sweetie. You're ruining the fun. _

_Oh my, look at you, you're actually crying, the great Ivan Braginsky, whose dominion spans from one ocean to another, the dauntless force that if not enchained, could very well make Europe fall from the ground to oblivion. _

_Am I really that scary? Good. _

_But you know I don't exist though, right? You were on a trip, and I'm just a hallucination of that special someone you loved and hurt. _

_Your eyes, still a pale, innocent lavender, despite how much blood they've seen__— __I want to rip them out of your skull. _

_Your skin, white as lilies and soft as down__—__ It will bleed from every pore. _

_Your formidable, god-like strength will topple, and I will make you beg at my feet for mercy like crippled wolf. _

_Sure, you can set me on fire, set this whole house on fire! I'll just haunt your mind instead. _

_Let's see you try to burn that too, my dear._

* * *

**Pregnant**

"Look Ivan, it's been a long day for me, I can't take anymore of your nonsense today. Besides, men can't get pregnant, it's biologically impossible! Now if you stopped drinking so much beer or eating so much junk food, then maybe that belly of yours would go down."

"No, I'm serious! I can feel something kicking, and I _am _able tell the difference between a live foetus and diarrhea, thank you very much."

Yao, being the skeptic that he was, just _had_ to kneel down and put his ear upon the other man's belly, making poor ol' self-conscious-about-his-weight Ivan hate himself a little more.

"Wait, you're right... W-We're gonna be..."

"Yeah, yeah, we're going to be parents, and FOX News is probably going to dub our child as the Antichrist. What, with your "cunning greed", and my "ruthless cruelty", he'll definitely "do us proud and make millions cry in fear"! So, my dear Yao, now that I am carrying a supervillain inside of me, may I please please please have the night off from housework?"

Yao looked like he was about to cry. Tears of joy, of course. Ivan had just said the most beautiful thing he had ever heard.

"Ivan Braginsky, honey, you can have my leg."

* * *

**Queen**

Here I find him sitting on an abandoned throne, his robes singed and tattered, his hair dirty.

"It's over, Ivan," he says, wearing a cruel smile, "It's over for you too, thank God... It's sad isn't it? Hundreds of years of history, done in a flash. I can feel it in your heart, you're also lamenting the loss, just like me."

I ignore his crass remark, and instead press a strand of his coal-black hair against my lips. Maybe someday, he'll return to the warm, kind-hearted person I fell in love with. Time will heal all wounds, and I just have to keep faith.

"Imperialism. You miss it, don't you?" He continues, looking up hopelessly at the damp, cracked ceiling of his palace, "The grandeur, the dances, it feels entirely like a dream we've descended from, and now, we're back on the ground, back to where we had started. The rain, the soil, it disgusts me."

I carefully lay my head upon his lap, and take a deep breath. He smells like sweat and shame. I reach for his hand, and see that his fingers have become raw from hard labour. I kiss it anyways and say, "It doesn't matter, Yao. You'll always be my queen."

* * *

**Regret**

One day, Ivan asked, "Yao, do you ever regret it?"

"Regret what?"

"You know, everything. The pain and suffering you caused to these people, the millions of lives that were lost because of you."

Yao's face fell. "Will regret turn back time and undo what I did?"

"Well no, but—"

"Then regretting would just be an empty gesture, and therefore, a waste of time. People die, Ivan, it's a fact. The sooner you get over it, the happier you'll be."

Ivan didn't know how to respond, or whether he should at all.

"You know," he admitted finally, looking away, "Sometimes, the things you say make me fear for my life."

"Well, good."

Ivan's question kept Yao preoccupied for a while, but it didn't take long for him to remember the once in his life when he _truly_ regretted something he had done.

A few decades ago, after Ivan and Yao had both parted ways, Yao finally learned how to do needlework, something he had been pondering over for centuries. Not only was it to fix his own clothing, but also, to him, needlework was something you did for someone you loved. It required plenty of care and attention that Yao wouldn't invest for the sake of anyone else, and somehow, it helped to lessen the pain of missing that person day and night.

_I'm sorry, Ivan. It's my fault. I shouldn't have said all those hurtful things, otherwise, we'd still be together... _

During that period, whenever Yao wasn't busy "leaping forward" along with the rest of his people, and actually had free time, he sat in his room and made scarves, gloves, and other little items for when they would meet again. Because for a few hours each day, it felt like his dear Ivan was still right next to him, for him to kiss and hold.

But Ivan never got to see those items that Yao made, and he never would, because otherwise Yao would have admitted that he was capable of feeling regret.

* * *

**Sand**

There's nothing wrong with a bit of self-loathing once in a while—

_I don't like it here in your country. It's too warm, and the sand on the beach gets in my boots. There are people running about, without having to bundle themselves up from the freezing cold. There's nothing to keep secret, nothing to hide. They all seem to know each other, and therefore, can understand and work with each other. Your society is more likely to adapt to change, while I'm forced to live in the same old snowy hell that just won't get better, despite all of the promises the government makes. It's the damn cold that freezes your hearts, and takes the hope out of everything._

Yao turns and puts his hand upon Ivan's.

_Maybe there's a bit too much fire where I live. People are becoming greedy and ambitious, and they forget about who they are. They sacrifice their happiness for the sake of money and power. They need to visit your country, and learn about living a simple life with your family and friends. It's cold up there, yes, but when people huddle together for warmth, it won't be that bad._

* * *

**Telly**

Ivan lifted his head up with great effort, just to see Yao standing over him with hands on his hips and tapping his foot.

Just as Yao opened up his mouth, Ivan knew exactly what he was going to say. He groaned inwardly. This was one of the few times when he regretted marrying Yao, who loved to nag more than food. Which was a lot, by the way.

"Ivan Braginsky, it's been days now, don't you think you should get up from the couch and move on with your life?"

Ivan, who decided that he really wasn't in the mood for this right now, buried his face into the first cushion he could find. As talented as Yao's mouth could be in bed, there unfortunately wasn't a mute button for it when needed.

"You know, you're supposed to meet your boss at the airport at six in the morning to fly to Islamabad, and it's midnight already!"

"Yao, I just don't understand..." He muffled, sobbing, "_Why did they do this to me?_"

Yao facepalmed. He gave up. He didn't know what to do with him anymore. Taking a seat next to Ivan, he turned to him and said, while trying to sound as comforting as possible without actually buying into this silliness, "Look Ivan, I know you're sad that Gossip Girl is over, but you can't just sit there and watch re-runs and cry for the rest of your life, right? It's about time you got your life back in order!"

Ivan sobbed even louder at the inconsiderate comment. He allowed his wet, sloppy face fall squarely onto Yao's shoulder, and let the liquids flow. Without thinking, he took the Chinese man's sleeve to blow his nose.

Yao looked like he was about to cry too, but for another reason. He tried his hardest to keep himself together, as his husband, a full-grown man, the embodiment of the great Russian Federation, cried his heart out over some stupid TV show designed for pubescent women.

"Oh... w-why c-can't our love be as _-sniff-_ amazing as theirs?"

"I don't know, Ivan, I really don't..." Yao replied wearily, trying to combat the urge to slap him.

Suddenly, Ivan's phone rang from his pocket, and of course, the ringtone of which was set to the theme song of the American sitcom sensation. Yao rolled his eyes and took it from his pocket, and saw that it was Ivan's boss. Oh great.

"_What do you want?!_" He growled without thinking, and immediately regretted it.

An angrier, more frantic voice buzzed from the other side.

"Oh, sorry Mr. President, _sir_," Yao forced out an apology, not wanting to start anything over the phone, "But I don't think Ivan is be able to make it today."

Yao had to get the phone out of his ear so he wouldn't go deaf.

"Y-Yes sir, he, uh... he drowned himself in feels."

* * *

**Unyielding**

"Look, at these sunflowers, Yao, and tell me what you see." Ivan whispered into his ear, carefully lifting his gloved hand away from the other man's eyes, as Yao gasped at the pure, untainted beauty before him.

"I see... _us_."

"Yes, my little Bolshevik, we are just like them, and must reach for the sun or die trying, no matter how far away it is, no matter how impossible our dreams may seem at first."

Ivan was the truth, a message from the heavens above that Yao had accepted with open arms, for whom his heart hummed the grandest symphonies. Ivan was his strength, the hands that held him high, so he could soar into the clouds once more. To Yao, not only were Ivan's words a command, they were poetry.

Ivan was the king of the iron world. He represented progress, development, the bright future ahead, and Yao was so convinced that if he stayed by Ivan's side, Ivan would restore him to his former glory. The weakest, most battered souls were the easiest to touch, after all.

In these elysian fields, amidst the miles and miles of gold, Yao finally let slip three little words that Ivan, for hundreds of years, thought he'd never say.

_I love you._

* * *

**Victory**

is not the reason why they do what they do. For Ivan and Yao, it's the journey that matters, not the destination. Even if they lost the game and were banished to the pits of hell, they'd just hold hands and laugh about it on the way.

* * *

**Weird**

Outside of work, Elizaveta Hedevary considers journalism (spying) as her favourite hobby, and is the co-founder of _People's Magazine__—__ The Nations Edition_ alongside Honda Kiku, who has the writing and photography skills to pair with her hungry curiosity about the latest, freshest, juiciest gossip of the personal lives of the nation-tans.

This week, they are working on the long anticipated piece about Ivan and Yao, the so-called "Brangelina" of their social circle. The following is a snippet of the interview—

EH: So, first of all, I would like to thank you for taking your time to sit with us today.

WY: You're welcome, we're glad to be in the studio.

EH: So, how are you two doing?

IB: We're doing well. Could be better if we got over this quicker though. We're both very busy people, you think we have the time for this stupid nonsense?!

WY: -laughs- Don't mind him, Ivan is just grumpy because I accidentally made him decaf this morning.

EH: Oh, okay! That's perfectly understandable! Well, to start things off, let me ask you a few questions about your current relationship. Let's see here... _So_, it's a general agreement among the rest of us that you two are somewhat of a... you know, _weird_ couple, to put it delicately. We don't even know how you two went from neighbors to friends, and eventually hooked up. Do you mind sharing that story with us today?

IB: Well what's _important_ is that we're together now. Otherwise it's none of their business, okay? Geez, it's not like us to be telling others about these kinds of things. If people say they don't understand the relationship between me and Yao, then they weren't meant to in the first place!

EH: Nono, I'm not trying to offend, but it's what_ some_ people think though, myself not included of course... You two are very different people, from separate backgrounds and cultures with values that may not always agree with each other. Some critics say that this relationship won't last very long. How do you respond that then?

WY: -holds hands with IB- We just enjoy the time we have together, and not worry about anything else. I know Ivan better than anyone, and that's how Ivan knows me. We still have many challenges ahead, but we work together to overcome them. It's not like you can sit around and expect a successful marriage to fall out of the sky. It's hard work!

EH: Well of course. You get what you put in. Now, as we all know, you two have set an example for all other nation-tans to pursue love, no matter how hard it is for us. What advice do you have for the many people who look up to your relationship?

WY: Some people love us because they admire what we are destined to achieve, like the whole rumour about the "New World Order" that we're supposed to be establishing. But come on people, we cannot _possibly_ account for it completely. We will try our best to achieve our goals, because that's all we can do. But don't count on anything.

IB: Yeah, and if you truly want to be with someone, then go for it. Don't be a coward and not tell them how you feel just because you're afraid of rejection. Don't do what my one colleague does either, sit alone in front of a computer and invent a website where he and the teenagers in his country can complain about their hopeless love-lives without actually fixing the damn problem!

* * *

**Ex**

Once, when the topic of exes came up, Yao admitted that he could not possibly remember all of the lovers he'd ever been with his whole life. Ivan began to wonder if one day, he'd be forgotten as well.

* * *

**Yours**

They're standing at the edge of the Earth.

Yes, the Earth has an edge now, two in fact. Humans have managed to split the damn thing in half, and now Yao is on the one side, and Ivan is on the other.

They look at each other without saying anything. There's nothing to be said. They're surrounded in flames, listening to the sound of bombs being set off. Yao can see it clearly in Ivan's eyes that this was goodbye, and he believes it too.

"Great job we did, huh? Trying to make the world a better place, and ended up destroying it."

Count on Ivan to still make jokes during times like these.

Yao lets out a chuckle, which sounded more like a cough from all the smoke. "No, Ivan. The world _will_ be a better place because of us. Sacrifices must be made for progress, and we just got the wrong end of the deal. We can't be together anymore, but at least planet Earth didn't explode to smithereens, right?"

Ivan smiles sadly. He reaches his hands out for his lover, but it's too late. Yao is already miles away, and drifting even further apart. All that he could grab were burning cinders, which turned black the moment they fell onto his hands. "So, I guess this is the end for us?"

"No, I'm still yours. I'll be forever yours. Don't you forget that. Wherever you are, I'll be right behind even if I seem far away."

But Ivan is already too far away to hear that. Overhead, against the backdrop of the last sunset mankind will ever see, Ivan watches as the image of Yao, his shining star, dwindle and fade into the night sky.

* * *

**Zyklon**

The air is filled with the heavy, oppressive scent of ammonia, sulfur, and in general, poisonous filth. They're both wearing gas masks, radiation suits, hard boots, and because only Yao would still have a sense of vanity at times like these, the last flower on Earth was tucked behind his ear as an ornament.

It'll take a long while before the poisonous gas subsides. But on the bright side, there are no countries anymore. They've all disappeared. The apocalypse has come and gone, and now, they're left to pick up the pieces. Ivan can feel his human heart beating in his chest, air in his lungs, blood running through his veins. It all feels very strange indeed. He's still learning about the different processes. A stomach growling means that he's hungry, and the condition of a sore bladder can be cured by relieving himself.

Ivan looks over to Yao, who's standing right next to him all this time, and shrugs. "I guess it's you and me now."

They've been to hell and back, and because they refused to let go of each other's hands, as the cycle of life rolled on, they were stuck together.

"Yao, isn't this great?" Ivan asks, as they stand before the unstately ruins of what used to be the Temple of Jerusalem, the borderline between this life and the next.

"What, this pile of crap that we're left with? Yeah, compared to how you used to keep your office desk, it's heavenly."

"But we can finally have what we've always wanted, a human life that has a beginning and an end. We can spend the rest of it together, free of any burdens. We can find a place of our own, and we'll grow old and die together, don't you w—"

They sealed their fate with an embrace, a long, passionate one, as if it had been a thousand years since they last felt each other's warmth.

And, that was that.

**Fin. **

* * *

I got sooo lazy at the end. :P This is the first and last time I will ever like a pairing enough to write alphabet drabbles. These get so damn tedious.

Please review anyways. I'm blind now. Going to bed. :D


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